


Sweet Little Lamb

by UnholyPlumpPrincess



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Biting, Bloodhound Headcanons (Apex Legends), Bloodhound's werewolf strap makes a comeback, Canon Nonbinary Character, Creampie, Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, God Kink, Kissing, Knifeplay, Knotting, Nonbinary Character, Oral Sex, Other, Piercings, Predator/Prey, Reader has a vulva but verbiage is cock/dick/hole, Reader is gender neutral however is BRIEFLY called Boy as a pet name, Spreader Bars, Strap-Ons, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, body mods, primal play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:54:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24637126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnholyPlumpPrincess/pseuds/UnholyPlumpPrincess
Summary: A gift for an artist and friend on tumblr (Useeer) who makes v hot Bloodhound art that I was entirely inspired by.OrIn which Bloodhound always want to play with you when they come home from a season, but this time they tease you relentlessly until you're needy. It's finally revealed they want to play their dangerous game of chase with you. Always the same rewards. If you hide and escape? You get to do whatever you want to them.And if they win? Well, fair is fair- and you never win.
Relationships: Bloodhound (Apex Legends)/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 75





	Sweet Little Lamb

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to see more of my stuff, request me, or what have you check out my tumblr @Sinningplumpprincess (MUST HAVE AGE IN BLOG TO FOLLOW)

Bloodhound was a soft lover.

Patient, kind, thoughtful, adoring- they never made you feel second best. They spoiled you in their own little ways, they were playful in their teases and how they could chase you playfully around and mock pin you. Leaving you squealing, smiling, and kicking as they playfully gnashed their teeth as if they planned to bite you.

They made you feel loved and domestic. Even when they went away on long trips to the games. You  understood that it was their path, that they had a calling from their gods. That you would see them once the season ended and they could return home without paparazzi tailing them. You always watched their games, rooting for them from home. But otherwise you tended to your little cottage- perhaps old fashioned, but it is what they liked.

Whenever they could come home, they were always pent up. You never asked Bloodhound the obvious question of ‘do you masturbate when you’re away’ but you figured the answer was no. Considering how hungry they always were. It was like clockwork when they were home, if you were up to it of course. They were always polite even if they were breathy and near humping your leg, asking if you wanted it too.

The little things.

Now it’s been a week since they’d come home. You’re on edge waiting for it. Bloodhound kept teasing you all week knowing you were practically trained to be horny the minute they came home. You try and swallow it down, breathily replying when they ask you what’s wrong, “Nothing, Hound, nothing at all.” And they’d hum coyly, sliding a hand across your neck and press a kiss to your lips that left you wetter than you’d like to admit.

They were doing it on purpose. Sizing you up. Making you needy. It was working, but even  then, you could see their patience almost snap sometimes. Especially when the other night they’d straddled your hips, kissing you deep and rough, marking your neck with their teeth and you’d begged. You’d begged prettier than you’d ever begged in your life, trying to press yourself up against them, whimpering, begging for any sort of friction.

“Be  patient , my love, and I shall reward you.” They’d said against your lips, their own breath shaking with hushed restraint. You’d about sobbed, near desperately in tears by the time they licked into your mouth again for another taste.

You’d wished they’d break it, just take you- hell, you wished they’d let you at least touch them to quell your hunger. You wanted to taste their slick on your tongue, wanting to bruise their skin with your teeth and hear them whine-

However, you could be patient. 

This time.

By the end of the week, you’re practically dripping at the sound of their voice. It’s a little embarrassing when they so much as ask what you’d like for dinner and you’re squishing your thighs together and trying to come up with an answer. You didn’t take yourself as that needy, but you suppose your body is trained, and you’re getting a little desperate.

But, that’s what they wanted.

Finally, you’re rewarded when they come up to you with a proposition.

It’s as if they waited for you to come downstairs. Watching you with hungry eyes the moment you got close. Their red curls were pulled up into a high, messy ponytail with a singular braid framing the right side of their face with a feather braided in at the end. Their outfit consisting of a black lace bralette, a leather jacket with fur lining the collar and cropped at about their navel, tight black leather pants and boots.

It had been alluring, a trap you suppose as you’d gone towards them to eagerly trace your hands along their exposed waist, but they’d hummed at you instead.

They’re backing you into a wall then, and you swallow hard at the action, immediately feeling small despite their petite stature. Their aura is always dominating as your back hits the wall and they spring on you like a predator. A switch blade in their hand making a distinctive ‘shnk’ sound before it’s pointed at your chin, a smirk to their lips as they watch your mouth part to shakily exhale as your eyes flicker to the shiny blade.

“My little lamb,” They coo out, their full lips gathering your attention briefly and watching their split pierced tongue slide over their lips.  **_ Shit _ ** . “I wish to chase you tonight. You are familiar with my little game, yes?” Their voice is practically a purr as the blade moves to tip your chin up, making you shamefully try to shut your thighs together. As if they could sense the action, their thigh pressed between yours and your lashes flutter.

“Y-yes-” You finally manage to get out. You knew very well. One of their favorite versions of foreplay and something that set your skin and heart alight. You were familiar with the burn in your lungs, how the backwoods you’d routinely run through could seem so big and terrifying in the nights.

“You know my rules and rewards?”

“Yes.” You repeat, feeling the point of their blade trace down your throat and making you swallow hard. It was simple rules, but the rewards were the highest of stakes: If you managed to hide or run from them successfully for an hour, you got whatever you wanted. And if they caught you? Anything they wanted. In the forest.

“Good,” They murmur, drawing their blade from you and making you realize how close their face is to yours. You strain the need to  cup their cheek, eyes flickering down to their mouth as it pulled into a wolfish grin, baring their double set of sharp canines. “Now run.”

And you do. You take off out the front door the second they stop caging you, frantic to abuse the  head start they’re offering you.

But, you know in the end who would win.

\--

By the time you’re caught, you’ve managed to enter a clearing- which was your mistake thinking you could pause to take a breather. They’d managed to tackle you, wrestling your squirming body and at first you manage to escape. You’d cried out in joy like a deer who broke free from a trap, turned right back around to book it, only to have your ankle snagged and you tugged to the ground.

It’s a blur of mouths, teeth, and how deadly their eyes look in the night. You also remember a blade, trying not to squirm as they cut off your clothes or the sounds of the cloth shredding. 

Now? Now you’re on all fours, a spreader bar keeping your thighs far apart. They’ve graciously taken off their jacket to fold under your head so your cheek isn’t pressed into the grass and dirt under you, your arms tied behind your back with rope they’d brought with the bar in a bag that is rested off to the side.

You currently have four fingers inside of your hole. Your cock twitches weakly at the feeling of their split tongue licking over it and occasionally trapping it between them. You sob out when you feel the telltale tightening in your abdomen as you cum, drooling slick into their hand and onto their tongue. The sound of Bloodhound moaning makes your cheeks burn as they lick up all you have to offer.

“You always taste so good, my prey.” They growl out behind you, making your hole contract weakly around their fingers. They twist them, hooking them inside of you and spreading them just a bit to test the resistance of you. When Bloodhound’s fingers pull out, you just about cry until they’re shushing you once more.

You’re wet and lubed up, stretched sloppy for whatever they have planned. But you could take a guess as to what it is when you feel the tapered head of their preferred cock choice brushing against your hole. It’s lubed up as well, and you know exactly which one it is. It’s bright red, themed after a werewolf. It’s seven inches long in total with a knot the size of their fist. 

You whimper beneath  them; F ingers flexing in your bonds as you hear them growl above you.

“Stay still, little lamb.” Bloodhound growls out when you begin to squirm. Their calloused hands roughly grabbing your hips, pulling your ass up to begin pushing inside. The first inch or two isn’t bad, but once it starts to get thicker and thicker, that’s when you begin to whimper. You’re stretched for the occasion, lubed up so there isn’t any pain, but oh the stretch is always such a tight fit.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head when they start moving. Their  thrusts  are well timed and deep, the knot slapping against you but not penetrating right away. You sob and cry out beneath them, face feeling hot as your senses are surrounded by them. You hear them grunt behind you, tinging on a whine and you know that they way they’ve angled  themself has the cock bouncing back against their clit.

You briefly smile at the thought, thinking about how wet they must be all  because of you. You wonder faintly if they’d let you eat them out. 

Well, if you’re coherent after this.

Bloodhound’s nails press into your hips, yanking you back against them now with an almost frantic need. It takes a few times, your moans spilling out of you in harsh little whines to match their growls, but they fit the knot inside of you. It pops into you, spreading you wide and making your hips jerk, but both the bar and Bloodhound’s grip keep you afloat.

They don’t even do you the courtesy of keeping it inside and reaching around to jerk you off like they normally do. Instead, Bloodhound chuckles lowly, breathless as they pull it right back out of you just to hear you cry out and whine in dismay.

“I may have you however I please, my love,” They remind you with a low growl echoing in their voice. “You are mine to do with as a I wish. Are you not?” 

But before you can reply, they pop the knot back into you again, forcing you wide again and making you scream. “Ah, there you are,  _ bráð _ _ mitt _ . Let me hear you.”

Again and again they force the knot into you. Never giving you a break from the constant stretch until you get close. You’ve got tears running down your cheeks, eyes rolling into the back of your head and your mouth forming words but nothing coming out. 

And then they wrap a hand around your throat, pulling you up and onto your knees and against their chest. Bloodhound’s hand is loose around your neck, holding you close to their body and making your own body tremble as they fuck into you. Bloodhound’s other hand comes down, finally giving you mercy of jerking off your engorged, little cock. You sob out, your bound hands splaying across their abdomen behind you and feeling the flex of their muscles there with each thrust.

Their split tongue licks up your neck, surely tasting your sweat before they nip at your ear and snarl in your ear, “Cum for me, my sweet boy. Let your god hear you.”

And you do. Just at the same time they must press the syringe of the cum tube because you can feel one final slam into you to  knot you, and the feeling of the sticky cum lube filling you. You’re near about frantic when you cum, your cries an echo off each other until their hand around your throat comes to grab your chin and forcing two fingers into your mouth to press down your tongue. It forces your throat open, each cry partially muffled yet still louder than before.

You’re pretty sure you black out.

\--

By the time you come back to life, you find yourself clothed and cleaned. You’re in bed, feeling a hand stroking your hair and massaging your scalp down to your nape. You moan softly, shifting your head to roll a bit to the side and finding yourself with your head in their lap.

Bloodhound looks beautiful at this angle. Their hair is let down, their other hand holding a book that they seem invested in. Their round glasses rest on their nose, but they blink twice when they hear your noise, looking down at you and a fond smile spreading across their face. “Are you quite alright, my love? I was not too harsh on you, was I?”

Their hand moves from your hair, stroking over your cheekbone with the backs of their two knuckles. You can’t help but smile at their worry, reaching up to pull their hand to your face so you may kiss their palm. You note how their cheeks flush at the action and count yourself lucky for such a cute partner.

“Nah,” You get out, your voice hoarse even after you clear your throat. “C’mon, Hound, you’ve done much worse than that. Didn’t even cut me.”

“Ah, but I did bruise you.” They tease, tracing a hand down to one of the various bite marks on your neck with fondness. “Though it appears that when you are needy you can take-” They let their hand trace down your frame then, making your breath hitch as it brushes down your stomach, their fingers teasing your waistband with a coy smirk playing on their lips. “-Much more than we thought.”

Your cheeks flush red, groaning as your head falls back against their lap, burying your face into their thigh. “Don’t get me started again, babe, come on!”

“I would never dream of it, my love.”

Liar, you think, as you sneakily grab a pillow and fling it at their face just to hear them burst into laughter as you tackle them.

You could only hope you made good prey.


End file.
